


the strange middle ground between dreams and nightmares

by proto_typ3



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Domestic, Dreams and Nightmares, Light Angst, M/M, cyclonus and tailgate trying to be good partners, pretend there are analog clocks on cybertron, whirl being subconsciously upset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proto_typ3/pseuds/proto_typ3
Summary: Whirl has a dream.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate/Whirl (Transformers)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	the strange middle ground between dreams and nightmares

Most of the clocks went unpowered. Their hands pointed at wherever they had been screwed into place or their displays were blank. A few were plugged into something or packed with eon-lasting batteries. It was late in the lunar cycle. If he cared to look, he’d see the faintest glow of light peaking through the buildings. It was quiet. A good quiet. It held a kind of peace you only get when half the city was asleep. 

Thin, pointed fingers picked at many tiny parts of the disemboweled clock. Something wasn’t working. Something was making the clock freeze, keeping it quiet when it was meant to tick, something wasn’t _working_. So he had picked it apart, each piece memorized and laid out on his work table. The tip of one finger extended, a small screwdriver folding out. Oh, this gear is screwed too tight. That might be part of the problem. He dug deeper, half lost in the methodical action of taking apart something intricate. And it was good he did so, because he found a buildup of dust settled right along the inside face of the clock. Sure, it might not be affecting the mechanisms or the outward appearance, but he cleaned it anyway. He got to the point where the clock was nothing more than a shell and began retracing his steps, working back through the line of gears and parts he had extracted. They were dull. Nothing ornate. Nothing shiny or made of anything expensive. All cheap metal, only vaguely polished to be smooth against one another as they worked. 

The city slowly woke up outside his shop. People moved about. He distantly heard doors opening and closing, likely other people coming into work for the day. This was practically his home. He had rented the space with the attached studio in the back and shoved a berth back there with his handful of personal items. 

The clock was one piece after the other. Step by step. There weren’t many other times where his thoughts were so streamlined. 

His fingers twitched, and a small gear dropped onto the table, making the faintest sound. He picked it up without thinking, and dropped it again. He took a moment. Looking at his servo, then the gear. 

He picked it back up. 

And slotted it into the clock, settled between the small motor and other gears. 

He screwed the back panel on and examined it from the outside for a moment before plugging the thin cable into a port on the wall. 

The clock’s hands moved, but it wouldn’t tick. 

He grumbled. What else would be wrong? He went through every piece, checked every nook and cranny, what would be muring the tick? He knew this model of clock ticked, and the client said it _used to_ tick. 

He moved to unscrew the back again, but the fold-our screwdriver in his pointer finger wouldn’t… fold out. Great, now his tools were messed up. He cursed, picking at the seams along his fingers trying to brute force it. He didn’t have a manual screwdriver this small, he had always relied on the mods in his servos. There was an odd screech of metal that made him jolt. Then a pressure on his shoulder. 

* * *

“Whirl.” Cyclonus murmured close to his audial, shaking him from the dream. “You’re pinching me.” Whirl slowly remembered where he was. Cyclonus was at his front, facing him, and Tailgate was pressed between them, under Whirl’s chest and wrapped around his waist. Cyclonus gently grasped the claw that had been digging into his hip and lifted it. 

That… was a rather deep gouge, now that he was looking at it. He pulled himself up and away from them as much as he could with Tailgate latched onto him. The minibot stirred and pulled on him, sleepily adjusting to sit in his lap. Whirl was effectively pinned to at least stay sitting on the berth. Cyclonus sighed.

“Go back to sleep.” His voice was tired, but soft.

“No.” Whirl chirped, crossing his arms loosely around Tailgate’s form, claws shut tight. They were too sharp. He wouldn’t touch him. Tailgate shifted, then stretched and yawned. Whirl, quietly as he could, shifted his cockpit down just a bit, shifting internals around, so Tailgate was more comfortable.

“What’s happening?” He slurred, optics heavy, just barely online coming out of stasis.

“Whirl had a nightmare.” Cyclonus rubbed his optics and sat up with them, kneeling in front of Whirl. Wow, he should get him on his knees more often- that wasn’t the point here, Whirl chastised himself.

“I did not.” He grumbled.

“Aw, come here.” Tailgate cooed, reaching up to cup his face.

“I do _not_ have nightmares, I’m not a sparkling.” He brushed off his tiny hands and immediately felt terrible about it. He could stand to be mean and closed off to Cyclonus, but Tailgate? 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Tailgate, deciding not to push the face touching, took one of his claws and held it gently, making something twist in Whirl’s spark.

“No.” His optic narrowed. Dangerous. Maybe his mean face would put them off.

“That’s okay.” Tailgate hummed, that smile in his voice. 

“Oh.” He snapped his claws shut again as soon as he noticed they had gone slack. Thankfully Tailgate’s servos hadn't been in the way. 

“We’ve talked about this before, Whirl. We won’t _make_ you talk about things.” Cyclonus tried to make his voice gentle, but it fell a bit flat as he repeated one of Tailgate’s usual lines. Whirl might have gotten the message if everything didn’t naturally go in one audial and out the other.

Whirl watched Cyclonus get up and fumble for the lights. Tailgate groaned as the bright, fluorescent lights came on overhead. 

“Thought we’d go back to sleep.” He murmured, still pressed close to Whirl. 

“ _You_ can, my shift is in a breem.” Cyclonus stretched. “Might as well get going.” 

“I’m not that comfortable, wanna lay down?” Whirl started to pick the minibot off him, but hesitated at the use of his own claws.

“You’re perfectly comfortable.” Tailgate hummed, wrapping his arms around Whirl’s middle.

“Oh.”

* * *

Cyclonus was _very_ good at ignoring pain. But, of course, that was only a result of rarely having access to a medic.

He hadn’t known that skill would come in handy in berth of all things. And not even for a good reason. Whirl had just… tensed up in his sleep. His servo had already been on his waist, and those sharpened blades along the inside of his claws had cut right through one of his outer plates. He tried not to think about it. Whirl hadn’t meant to, and Cyclonus played it off just fine. It was a miracle Tailgate hadn’t noticed. 

Being able to ignore the pain didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.

He pinged the medical bay as he stood outside it, and Ratchet opened it a moment later. 

“What seems to be the problem?” He sounded like he just woke up. 

“Nick in my outer plating. I’d like some painkillers until it reconstructs itself.”

“What kind of nick- ah.” Ratchet narrowed his optics before rummaging through a drawer. “Should help with both the healing process and the pain.” He shook out two crystalline pills into his servo and dropped them into Cyclonus’s outstretched hand. “Take it with energon and for the love of Primus be more careful. That was inches from a transformation seam.” Ratchet knew that it wasn’t from any kind of scuffle, but he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact he’s seen Whirl follow the pair into their habsuit on several occasions.

“Understood.” Cyclonus sighed. 

He mulled over the idea of how to protect himself against a jumpy helicopter while he was in stasis on his way to the mess hall.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @ nonchromatic!  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated <3


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